


Top of Forever

by emptydistractions



Series: You're the Only Place That Feels Like Home [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Developing Friendships, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Meet the Family, Outdoor Sex, Power Bottom, Protective Natasha Romanov, Public Hand Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Work, Sex Worker Bucky Barnes, Snarky Tony Stark, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:36:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23003659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emptydistractions/pseuds/emptydistractions
Summary: “Fine,” Bucky told the woman as he yanked open the passenger side door and dropped into the seat. “But if you murder me, I’m gonna be super pissed.”(A story in which Bucky Barnes refuses to let a little casual kidnapping ruin his day.)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: You're the Only Place That Feels Like Home [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1528691
Comments: 17
Kudos: 230





	Top of Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Part three! Sorry you had to wait so long for it. Idea inspired by a reader of the series back when it first started.

_I’m 99% sure I’m being kidnapped rn_

Bucky sighed, his breath puffing out in white clouds in the cold air. He shifted from foot to foot to keep warm, careful not to slip on the icy sidewalk as he contemplated his choices. He glanced from his phone to the red sports car idling on the street in front of him, and the woman in the car raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. Bucky suppressed a second beleaguered sigh before firing off another quick text message to his sister. 

_Make that 100%. ur building needs better security._

Bucky took one last, weary look around, pausing to stare longingly at the large double doors to his sister’s building. It would be so easy to just turn around right now and spend the rest of the day in the warmth and relative comfort of Becca’s apartment. But he had to face this at some point, and now was as good a time as any he supposed.

“Fine,” Bucky told the woman as he yanked open the passenger side door and dropped into the seat. “But if you murder me, I’m gonna be super pissed.”

“You think I’m going to murder you?”

“Not really,” he said as he pulled off his gloves and unwound the long knit scarf from around his neck. The car’s interior was pleasantly warm compared to the cold winter chill of the street. “But I don't have a great track record with people offering me rides. I should probably just be grateful you didn’t pull up in a murder van.”

She pressed her lips together like she was trying to hide a smile. “Thanks for the tip. Maybe next time I will.”

Bucky didn’t roll his eyes at her, but only just. As he pulled off his hat and scrubbed a hand through his hair, he watched her out of the corner of his eye. Smoothly, she slid the car into gear and pulled away from the curb to merge with the flow of traffic.

Silence descended on the car. It wasn’t uncomfortable, not exactly, but it was just unsettling enough to have him on the edge of the leather seat. He cracked his knuckles as he thought. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to call her. Natasha felt too familiar; intimate in a way that didn’t feel right. He’d only met her just a few weeks ago, and only once at that, and that had been under less than normal circumstances. Calling her Black Widow felt just as bad but in the opposite way; far too impersonal. Just Widow? Ms. Romanoff?

Yeah, definitely not.

“How’d you know where to find me?” Bucky’s curiosity won out over propriety, and besides, he’d never exactly been one for social niceties. “Let me guess,” he continued. “Privileged information, right? If you tell me you’ll have to kill me? Or some of that other super secret squirrel bullshit.”

She gave him a look that he could only describe as _‘please god, get this idiot out of my car’_ and said in a flat tone, “I asked Steve.”

“Oh.” The temptation to sink down into the seat was all too real. Bucky just hoped he could blame the weather for the color on his cheeks as he flushed red with embarrassment

“Your sister’s not exactly hard to find.”

She waved a phone at him. A search for _‘Becca Barnes’_ and the subsequent results filled the screen, including her studio address. Hundreds of images of Becca’s fashion designs over the years popped up as well, and Bucky felt the same surge of pride that he always had for his sister and all her hard work.

“She’s very talented,” Black W-, _fuck it_ , Natasha said. If she was going to show up unannounced and whisk him off the street without warning, Bucky damn well deserved to use her first name. “I know someone who I think would be very interested in some of these.”

“Spread the word,” Bucky replied, watching curiously as Natasha smoothly switched lanes. He wondered where she was taking him. “Seriously. She doesn’t get near the recognition she deserves. Plus the sooner she’s rich and famous, the sooner she can move out of that drafty shoebox she calls an apartment. _She_ says it’s Bohemian but,” he made a face, “I think we all know what that means.”

Natasha made a sound that Bucky might have called a laugh if it came from a less serious person. As it was, he wasn’t exactly sure what it meant. For a moment they sat in relative silence with only the hum of the heater and the muffled sounds of traffic to keep them company. But then-

“Okay, Steve told you where to go,” he said, sitting forward to stare at her. “But how’d you know when? I was there for hours. What’d you just park outside like a stalker for the last four hours?”

The corners of her mouth crooked upward in the tiniest smile as she continued to stare forward, her eyes never leaving the road. 

“Right,” Bucky said, sitting back again. “Secrets. Got it.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “So what is this then?” He had a sneaking suspicion that he already knew exactly what this was, but he hoped he was wrong. “You getting ready to threaten me? Treat Steve right, toe the line and all that crap, or you tell the world about me?”

“I don’t care about you.”

Alright then. Natasha was more blunt than he’d expected, but the statement was more than fair. Bucky couldn’t say he particularly cared about her either. If friendship with your significant other was all that was required to care about someone, the world would be a very different place.

“But I do care about Steve,” she continued. Her eyes met his for a fraction of a second before returning to the road. Her expression was granite; solid and immovable. “He’s one of the few people in this world I care about. He’s a… Steve is a good man.”

“Ah,” Bucky said, already weary of this thread of conversation. “So I’m guessing this is a shovel talk.”

“Do you _need_ a shovel talk?”

He took a deep breath before answering, feeling the words out in his mind. He wanted to get this right, and hopefully do it in a way that wouldn’t earn him one of Steve Roger’s disappointed faces later. “Steve _is_ a good man,” he said after a moment. “Better than most, and I’ve known a hell of a lot. But Steve is also an adult in a consensual relationship, and he knows what’s best for himself more than you or I do. If you trust Steve the way I think you do, then you already know that going behind his back and warning me off of hurting him is doing a disservice to him. Anything less implies that you don’t trust him to make his own decisions.”

If he’d had a knife, he could’ve cut the tension in the car with it. Bucky kept his eyes on her, refusing to back down even as anxiety sawed at his nerves. Then, slowly and miraculously, the corner of her mouth ticked upwards into a small smile. Bucky didn’t bother to hide his relief as he sagged back against the seat again.

“He wasn’t exaggerating, was he?” she asked. “You do keep him on his toes. That’s good. Steve needs someone who can stand up to him. He means well, but he has the tendency to bowl people over in the process.”

Bucky laughed. “I’m not the easiest person in the world to push around.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she said. The car slowed as she pulled into a space between two cars. The curb was tightly packed with vehicles, and her ability to parallel park in the cramped space was nothing short of impressive.

“You know,” Bucky said casually. His voice suddenly felt too loud as the engine cut out, leaving them in relative silence. “He cares about you too. A lot.”

Her gray-green eyes were inscrutable, and for a moment, she seemed to be looking right through him to something that only she could see.

“Come on,” she said, undoing her seatbelt, and the moment was lost.

For the first time since they’d pulled up to the curb, Bucky looked around. He didn’t recognize the street, and beyond knowing that they hadn’t had time to leave Manhattan, he had no idea where they were. They were parked outside an eclectic collection of storefronts; a laundromat, two pawn shops, and a restaurant that had been there so long that the lettering on the sign had long since peeled away, leaving him to guess at what the name could be.

He took a wild guess and pointed at the restaurant as he got out of the car. “Are we eating?”

“Right now, a few miles away, Tony Stark is doing unspeakable things to some perfectly innocent groceries. _We_ are here to pick up something edible for when he’s done. Assuming he hasn’t burned the place down by the time we get there.”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky said, crossing his arms over his chest and tucking his hands in to keep from shivering as a gust of wind blew past. Something was bothering him, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It was only as he was staring at the back of her sleek leather jacket as she walked ahead of him that he was able to put the thought into words.

“Wait.” She turned and met him with a raised eyebrow. “I’m sorry, but did you stalk me through Manhattan traffic for four hours to have _dinner?_ ” Well, dinner and a misguided attempt to manage Steve’s love life, but that was beside the point. “I have a phone you know. Fuckin’ superheroes,” he muttered, shaking his head. These people would be the death of him, he was sure of it. “Is being exhausting required when you apply for the job, or do they hand that part out with the suit?”

She laughed, and Bucky watched as the entire movement lit up her face. For a brief second he almost forgot he was talking to one of the most deadly people on the Eastern seaboard.

“I’ll make sure to let Steve know he’s making the rest of us look bad.”

He rolled his eyes at the statement as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Believe me, you’re all doing just fine at that on your own. Go on ahead, I’ve got a call to make.”

She disappeared through the door to the restaurant and Bucky stepped back towards the car. Another gust of wind hit him; he was beginning to really regret leaving him scarf and gloves in the car. His fingers were frozen, red and clumsy as he attempted to dial the phone.

He wasn’t surprised in the least when Steve’s voicemail greeted him, even though he’d had some tiny amount of hope that Steve himself would answer. It was just so much more satisfying to rant at a real live person than a machine. Although, he thought as he waited for the rambling message to end, perhaps rant wasn’t the right word. He felt… not good about what was happening, but maybe not as upset as he had been even ten minutes ago.

“I’ve been accosted,” Bucky told the machine drily when it finally beeped and he was allowed to speak. “And it’s kind of your fault. Call me back. And, uh…” He thought for a moment about saying more to clarify the situation, but just then the jangling of the bell over the door of the restaurant pulled his attention back to the storefront. Natasha was back already, juggling several heavy bags of food that were letting off steam into the cold air. “Yeah, just call me back.”

“You make your call?” Natasha asked him as he slipped the phone back into his pocket.

“Jesus Christ, that’s a lot of food,” he replied, ignoring her question altogether. “Did you buy out the entire store?” He paused for a second and then pulled a face. “You know what, I’ve seen the way Steve eats. Consider the question withdrawn.”

He relieved her of a few of the bags, his stomach growling as he breathed in the heady scent of clove and cardamom. The trunk of Natasha’s car had a surprising amount of space for the style. He wondered if it was custom-made.

“Adil always gives us extra food,” Natasha explained as the trunk swung shut. Tony bought the building after the Battle of New York. Paid for all the repairs and stopped charging him rent. I always have to argue with him to let us pay at all.”

Bucky cocked his head as he stared at the building. It hadn’t looked familiar when they’d pulled up, but now some kind of recognition was tickling at the back of his brain. He took his phone out after he’d settled back into the car. As Natasha pulled away from the curb and back into traffic, he furtively tapped at his screen until he found what he was looking for.

A lot had changed between then and now. The exterior of the building had been spruced up with a new coat of paint and one of the pawn shops hadn’t existed back then, but it was definitely the same place as in the photo. Bucky stared at the image on the screen, trying to reconcile it with real life. He could just barely see it. The street had been rebuilt and the rubble had been cleared, but there, there was the wall that had been knocked down. The sky in the distance had been grey with ash when an errant photographer had snapped a photograph of the Avengers post-battle, exhausted and slumped over a meal in a half-destroyed restaurant that had turned out to be one of the most widely-circulated images the world over.

God, that had been nearly a decade ago. Bucky still remembered being 15, huddled around his computer monitor with Becca while their parents were in the other room watching the news coming from the city with growing fright. He remembered the weeks after, when the dust began to settle and all anyone could talk about was the Avengers. The photo had been everywhere then, splashed across newspapers and magazines and television screens.

Although at the time, teenaged Bucky had been more interested in talking about Thor’s biceps than world politics. But now, all he could see was Steve. Dirt on his face and hair in disarray, slumped over the table like he was on the verge of passing out. The toll the battle had taken was clear in his expression, and Bucky’s chest ached for the younger Steve.

He pushed a button and closed the screen, swallowing past the uncomfortable lump that had formed in his throat. “You think Tony’ll pay my rent?” he said with levity he didn’t quite feel.

Natasha snorted in amusement. “Nice try, but I’m pretty sure he’s got a ‘friends and family only’ rule.”

“I feel like forcing people to have dinner with you against their will should at least put me in the friends category. Unless this is like, a thing you guys do a lot.”

“You don’t strike me as someone who does anything you don’t want to do.”

Bucky huffed in amusement as he stared out the tinted windows. The winter days were short and the sun was already starting to set in the west. The whole city was painted in twilight, dusky orange-gold rays of the setting sun splashed across the concrete and steel. He propped his chin in one hand as he watched the streets flit by, people tucked into heavy coats hurrying to get home. He thought in vain about the plans he’d had before this impromptu outing. He had appointments tonight, and he’d planned to get some groceries, maybe even relax a little before heading out for the evening. Somehow he doubted the Avengers would be pleased to know they weren’t his first choice of how to spend his time.

The streets grew crowded, the traffic thicker, and storefronts more numerous as they approached the Tower. At the last minute Natasha turned, taking the same discrete entrance Steve had used the night they’d confronted Pierce. The underground garage was just like he remembered it, dark and relatively empty save for a few cars Bucky could barely afford to look at, much less buy.

“Give me your hand,” Natasha said after she’d slid smoothly into a parking space and killed the engine.

“What, why?” Bucky asked, taken aback by the sudden request.

At some point she’d produced a tablet from god knows where and was busy flipping through it as she held out a hand impatiently.

“I need to log your fingerprints with the security system.”

Apparently the few seconds it took his brain to process that request were too long a wait for her, so she reached out and grabbed his left wrist, tugging it towards her. With practiced motions she guided his fingers, rolling each one across the tablet’s surface as it took a digital impression. It felt a little like he was being booked at a police station, but with less ink and a scarier authority figure than any officer he’d ever met.

She dropped his hand, and wordlessly he offered her the other one. It got the same treatment, all four fingers and thumb scanned and registered in seconds. She tapped at the screen, pulled up what looked like a camera, and handed him the tablet. For a second he stared at her, unsure of what she wanted him to do.

“Hold it up to your face,” she explained. “Facial recognition. Eyes too, when you’re done.”

He looked into the camera, grimacing when he saw his own expression. Flustered was definitely how he felt, but it wasn’t exactly his best look. He took three scans, face and each eye, before handing her back the tablet. As he did, he thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and then-

“Ow! The fuck was that for?” He rubbed at his scalp where she’d plucked out a hair without warning.

“DNA profile,” she said with a tone that just begged him to argue.

“Jeez,” he muttered, patting down his hair. “Whatever happened to informed consent?”

“I’m sure you’ll let us know if you figure it out.”

He gave her a withering look and she winked cheekily at him.

_Fuckin’ superheroes._

“Fine,” he said, unclipping his seatbelt as they finally got out of the car. He walked around to the trunk and helped her unload the many bags of food. They smelled even better than he remembered. “But if you end up making clones of me, I wanna name them.”

“As much as I’m sure Steve would be over the moon at the prospect,” Natasha said, walking at a clipped pace towards the elevator, “I’m sure one of you is more than enough.”

The elevator doors slid open as they approached. Once inside, Natasha turned to face him. “I know it seems intrusive-”

“Seems,” Bucky muttered under his breath.

“ _But_ it is necessary,” she continued without acknowledging him. “Now you’ll have limited access to the building. You’ll be allowed in certain areas of the Tower without one of us accompanying you, although I don’t encourage wandering. There’s a lot that goes on here, and most of it isn’t public knowledge.”

He leaned back against the wall as the elevator whirred to life under their feet. It rose swiftly, and Bucky was suddenly grateful that there weren’t any windows. “I was allowed in before.”

“You had Steve with you,” she replied. “If you had tried to go anywhere without him, you would’ve been rather rudely… escorted from the premises.” That hint of a smile was back on her face, cheeks dimpling as she tried to suppress it.

“Anyone ever tell you what a joy you are?” he asked her drily.

“Frequently.”

He wasn’t sure what floor they stopped on. It probably didn’t matter anyway; it wasn’t like he’d ever find his way out of this maze of a building without help. The room she led him to was different than the one he’d seen with Steve. That one had been utilitarian, clearly more for business than pleasure. This room was much more inviting.

It was set up like a miniature studio apartment, a combined living room and kitchen making up most of the floor plan, with a long wooden table marking the divide between the two. To his right, the living space was dominated by several low, squashy couches and a large flatscreen, with scattered coffee tables and ottomans between. The kitchen on his left was outfitted in grey marble with sleek black and chrome appliances. There was a long island lined with high stools and counter space that he was pretty sure his mother would kill for. Directly across from the elevator was a set of double doors that looked like they led out to a balcony.

The first thing Bucky noticed when he stepped into the room was the smell of smoke and a faint haziness to the air.

“Natasha, you’re a lifesaver.”

Even if Bucky hadn’t remembered the voice from his own encounter, he’d still recognize it from hundreds of press conferences and sound bites. Tony Stark swooped down on them like some bearded bird of prey and relieved Natasha of the food she was carrying. Bucky dropped his on the long wooden table in the middle of the room as he listened to them talk.

“Extra falafel. Natasha, you’re a goddess.”

“And you’re a flatterer who’s not getting away that easy. What happened this time?”

The doors leading out to the balcony slid open and Clint walked in. He’d grown out his facial hair into a fine stubble since Bucky had seen him last, and he laughed as he said, “Turns out cooking from the heart only works if you actually know how to cook. Who’d’ve thought?”

“It was a bad recipe,” Tony protested, looking slightly miffed. “Not my fault I had to do a little improvising on the fly.”

Natasha made a face. “Should I even ask?”

“I wouldn’t,” Clint said.

“It’s _fine_ ,” Tony insisted. “Just don’t open the oven for a few hours.”

Bucky snorted in amusement before he could stop himself. Immediately, he felt several pairs of eyes on him. It was a bit like being thrust under a spotlight. “It sounds like you and my sister went to the same cooking school,” Bucky said, by way of explanation. “She can boil water, on a good day.”

Natasha hid her smile behind her hand. Clint had no such compulsions, and sniggered loudly as he popped open a takeout container to inspect the contents.

“Oh, good,” Tony said to Natasha. “You brought Steve’s, uh- what was your name again?” he said as he turned back to Bucky with a questioning look on his face.

Natasha pursed her lips and waved away Tony’s question. “Ignore him. Tony’s got a selective memory when it comes to anything outside his lab.”

“That’s not true!” Tony put a hand to his chest in mock outrage. “I have an excellent memory. Now, who are you and what are you doing in my building?” he asked Natasha.

She rolled her eyes and pushed past him to help Clint lay out more of the food.

“Anyway _Bucky_ ,” she said, focusing her eyes on him.

Bucky arranged his face into what he hoped was a relatively bland expression. He felt more than a little out of his depth here, and until he figured out who he needed to be around these people, boring was probably the safest bet.

“Sorry we’re so few tonight. Thor’s offworld, which he pretty much always is unless there’s some kind of catastrophe going on. Bruce was supposed to be here. He was free when we planned this, but he got a last minute invitation to speak at Rutgers. He sends his regards.”

“Planned,” Bucky repeated. “You’ve been planning this?” He found the thought oddly flattering and just a tiny bit creepy. _Inevitable_. Yeah. That was probably a good word for what was happening.

“Yes,” said Tony and Natasha, with varying degrees of enthusiasm, overlapping with Clint’s, “No.”

“Barton, did you ever stop to think that maybe we just didn’t involve you in the planning process?” Tony raised an eyebrow, and it nearly disappeared under his messy mop of brown hair.

“I live here,” Clint responded simply. “I’m automatically involved in everything. Besides, like _you_ could make a plan without letting everyone within two city blocks in on your genius.”

The two continued their lighthearted squabbling as Natasha motioned for Bucky to help her set out plates and glasses. When everything had been unpacked and spread across the tabletop, the four of them took their seats. Bucky ended up directly across from Natasha and Tony, with Clint sitting on his right. The group of them barely took up a fourth of the massive table. He wondered what it must be like when there were enough of them to fill the space. Loud, would be his first guess.

Neither Tony nor Clint waited to dig into their food. Clint in particular ate like a man who hadn’t been fed in days, piling food high on his plate and humming happily to himself. Natasha was more reserved, sitting with a ramrod straight posture that would have had Bucky’s mother weeping for joy when he was young. Bucky carefully added food to his own plate, the smells rich and enticing as his stomach none-too-gently reminded him that it was past time he ate something. Still, he didn’t touch it. There was a niggling feeling of something left unfinished; a loose thread that might pull the whole thing apart if Bucky yanked too hard on it. Natasha had spared him a shovel talk in the car, but that couldn’t be the only thing this evening was about.

The blunt approach had worked before with Natasha. Hopefully it would work again now. “So what do you want to know?” Bucky asked, his voice firm and more sure than he felt. “Mother’s maiden name? My social security number? Shoe size?”

Tony looked at him and shrugged as Clint’s eyes darted back and forth, awkwardness written plainly on his face. Natasha continued to pick delicately at her food like he hadn’t said a word.

“Right,” Bucky said slowly. “I’m sure you already know all of that. Stupid of me.”

Tony shrugged again, like the fact that they already knew everything about Bucky wasn’t a big deal. And maybe to Tony Stark it wasn’t, but Bucky couldn’t help but feel horribly unsettled by the prospect of his life like lines of code inside one of Stark’s computers; everything he was laid bare for anyone to see.

Natasha interrupted his train of thought as if she could sense it about to hurl off the rails. “Think of this more as a gathering of all the people who love Steve.”

Bucky looked around and grimaced. “Aren’t you missing, you know, _Steve?_ ”

“Hey,” Tony interjected. “She said we love Steve, not that we want him here.”

“Oh,” Bucky nodded slowly as it all came together in his head. “In other words, Steve has no idea this is happening.”

Tony made a wavering motion with his hand. “Pretty much.”

Bucky sighed heavily. A part of himself (a very _strong_ part) wanted to get angry. There was little he hated more than having someone else’s will forced upon him. But a smaller, quieter part of him was insistent in reminding him that these were good people. He certainly wasn’t a fan of their methods; actively disliked them, in fact. But he was pretty sure he’d made that clear to Natasha when they spoke in the car. There was no need to die on the same hill twice today. So, for Steve’s sake…

“What do you actually want to know?”

Natasha sighed as if he’d asked a particularly trying question, and Bucky tried his best to subtly glare at her. It wasn’t like he got abducted off the street by crazy people in costumes every day. She could at least give him the benefit of the doubt. “We just want to spend time with you Bucky. Talk to you a little. Unbelievable, I know.”

Clint spared all of them from Bucky’s biting response. “I wanna know how you guys met.”

“Steve didn’t tell you?”

“Getting Steve to talk about personal stuff is like pulling teeth.” Tony gestured with his fork as he talked, flinging bits of food messily onto the tabletop. “Really big, muscle-y, blonde teeth.”

“Thanks for that image, Tony.” Natasha pulled a face as Clint snorted into his food.

Bucky wondered how much Steve had told his team, how much he’d be comfortable with Bucky telling them. It surprised him. As much time as Steve spent with them, and for as much as Bucky knew Steve cared for them, it was hard to believe that he’d remained so close-lipped about the entire thing. At one time, Bucky would have assumed the worst. He would have immediately jumped to the idea that Steve was embarrassed of him and his work. In fact, he’d done that already. But now he knew better.

Bucky chewed thoughtfully on a forkful of tabbouleh before answering. “It’s not a very exciting story,” he said. “Basically, I got drunk and forgot how to do simple math.”

“Called it!” Tony said smugly to Natasha. “Told you no one in their right mind wants to date Captain Morality.”

In response, Natasha stuffed a particularly large piece of pita bread into Tony’s mouth, effectively silencing him. “We worried about him,” she said to Bucky, ignoring Tony’s muffled indignation. “When he moved out of the Tower. We… _I_ was worried he might not be ready. It’s been years since he came out of the ice, but a lot’s changed, and not always for the better.”

Bucky frowned. “He’s an adult. Didn’t you think that whether or not he was ready was up to him?”

“I did,” she agreed. “I wouldn’t have stopped him. None of us would. But that doesn’t mean we can’t worry about him. Being an adult doesn’t mean he has to go it alone.”

Maybe Bucky was a bit of a cynic because he’d been going it alone for years. But no one had forced that on him, not in the way loneliness had been forced on Steve. Bucky had embraced it as freedom. He doubted Steve saw it the same way. 

Thankfully, the conversation drifted away from Steve before Bucky’s mind could make it any further down that track. The four of them ate and talked, and Bucky tucked away observations and information like tiny pieces of gold. He’d always been well attuned to other people’s feelings, and years of earning a living on making other people happy had only sharpened his instincts.

After they’d been at it for awhile, Tony let out a sudden, “Oh!” His fork clattered loudly onto his plate, splashing little bits of tzatziki onto the table as Tony leapt to his feet. Bucky watched with confusion as Tony near sprinted from the room, the elevator doors sliding open before he’d even given a command.

“Is he… okay?” Bucky asked when neither Natasha nor Clint stood up to go after him.

Clint waved a dismissive hand in the direction Tony had gone. “He’s fine. A complete freak of nature, but fine.’

Natasha reached across the table and smacked Clint’s hand. “He’s not a freak,” she said firmly. “He just gets ideas sometimes.”

“Ideas?”

“For new projects. Improvements to his suits. New tech for the team. Could be anything really. Most of the time he locks himself in his lab until we have to send Pepper in to force him into the shower.”

“Oh,” Bucky said, sitting back and staring at his plate. He felt the strangest surge of disappointment. He’d actually been _enjoying_ talking to Tony. When the hell had that happened? He wasn’t quite sure when his brain had decided to switch from annoyed tolerance to amusement. It was the same way he often felt with Steve; he could change Bucky’s mood so easily that Bucky never knew when it was happening until he suddenly realized he’d forgotten how he was feeling in the first place.

Maybe it was a superpower.

To Bucky’s (slightly embarrassed) delight, Tony reappeared moments later.

“Magnesium based alloy!” Tony announced excitedly as he reentered the room with great, loping strides. “Thinner and lighter, but just as strong as titanium!”

Bucky watched curiously, wondering if that statement made more sense to the other two than it did to him, as Tony dropped an armful of tools onto the table next to his plate. There was a long piece of canvas that Tony unrolled to reveal a collection of pliers, screwdrivers, wrenches, and ratchets, but that’s where Bucky’s limited knowledge of tools ended. Different sized screws and other bits and bobs hit the table and rolled across the surface, coming to rest in crazy patterns around a stack of thin, hammered metal sheets. The last item Tony set down more carefully, like a parent cradling an infant.

“Is that a hand?” Normally Bucky had better control over himself, but the question burst out of him before he could stop it. Sitting on the tabletop was a near-perfect approximation of a human hand. It ended at the wrist in a jumble of metal and wires, with each finger seeming to flex in on its own complex set of joints.

“Yep,” Tony said, plopping back down into his seat. “Or it will be once I’m through with it.” He picked up a screwdriver and started fiddling with something on the palm.

“That’s amazing.” Bucky just stared, his food forgotten. He had gotten his degree with the intent to go into engineering one day, and while he’d always imagined himself working on something bigger, the intricacies and subtle beauty of what Tony had made was… “Wow.”

“If you’re this easily impressed, I suddenly understand why you’re with Steve,” Tony said. “I meant it nicely!” he said, holding up two human hands and one metal one in surrender as Natasha smacked his arm.

Bucky made a face and continued to watch, fascinated. “It’s gorgeous,” he said.

“Thanks.” Tony looked at him, hands working on autopilot. “It’s a bit of a passion project. Bruce is being a good friend and indulging me. He’s working on the biological aspects: neural links, electrical impulses, all the blood and guts type stuff. I’m sticking with the tech side.” He waved the hand in emphasis, the metal fingers clacking together as it moved.

“What’s it for?” Bucky asked. Beside him, Nat and Clint, who were apparently not nearly as impressed as Bucky was, were having a quiet conversation about plans for the weekend.

“The hope,” Tony replied, grunting as he loosened a screw that was wedged in tight, “once we get this working, is full limbs.”

“Metal limbs?”

“Robotic limbs,” Tony corrected. “That is, assuming Bruce can figure out how to connect the things.”

It was an effort to keep his mouth shut. All Bucky wanted to do was inspect the thing; trace the circuitry, and see how the pieces fit together. His only hope was that no one noticed him geeking out too hard.

“That’s incredible,” Bucky said instead of the million and one other things he actually wanted to say.

“Hey,” Tony said. “You ever lose an arm and I’ll make sure you’re first in line for the trial. Fuck.” He tossed the screwdriver he’d been using aside to dig through a canvas bag. “I know I had the smaller one in here somewhere. Jarvis, can you tell Dum-E to check the lab?”

“Already on the way, sir,” the building AI responded.

Before Bucky had a chance to ask who (or what) they were referring to, the doors opened once again to admit a rudimentary-looking robot. It moved forward on small wheels attached to its square base, the singular claw holding a tiny screwdriver. Delicately, it lowered the screwdriver into Tony’s outstretched hand.

“Is that a robot?” Bucky heard Natasha stifle laughter, but at that point, his jaw was already on the floor. It was a little late for pride.

“Shhhh,” Tony shushed him, and put a protective hand on the robot’s metal flanking. “Don’t use the R word around him. We’re waiting until he’s older to tell him he’s adopted.”

“What does he do?” Bucky asked, curiosity burning through him. At least the awkwardness he’d been feeling since he arrived had finally vanished in the face of the last few minutes.

“A little bit of everything,” Tony replied. “Mostly helps me in the lab.”

Beside him, Clint muttered under his breath, “He cheats at cards.”

“It’s not cheating every time you lose, Barton.”

“Dum-E _does_ cheat, though.”

There was someone new in the room. Bucky had completely missed her arrival in his preoccupation with Dum-E, but he still recognized her the moment he set eyes on her. Pepper Potts was every bit as stunning as she’d been the last time he’d seen her. She wasn’t wearing an evening gown and her hair was down, loose and wavy over her shoulders, but the way she carried herself was the same; all grace and poise. He saw it in her eyes the moment she recognized him as well. For a moment he froze, not sure how this would play out. The last time she’d seen him he’d been on Pierce’s arm. Surely she knew by now what had happened.

The best way out was always through. It was something Becca liked to say, and something that Bucky decided to employ now. He refused to let any discomfort settle in, and so he stood, holding out his hand to her.

“James Barnes,” he said, shaking her hand gently. “Bucky. It’s nice to meet you again Ms. Potts.”

“Please, call me Pepper,” she laughed, light and airy. “I feel old enough already.”

He nodded at her as he sat back down and stabbed a fork into his now thoroughly luke-warm food.

“Natasha,” Pepper said. “Do you think you can wrangle Tony while I’m out?”

“I resent that,” Tony mumbled.

Pepper ignored him and moved on to Clint. “I have some papers I need you to look over tomorrow. Are you free?”

“Why didn’t Nat get any homework?” Clint asked, sticking his lower lip out in an exaggerated pout.

Pepper shrugged and smiled at him in lieu of an answer, before quickly becoming distracted. “Tony!” she said. “Why aren’t you wearing your glasses? You know all that squinting is going to give you a headache.”

“Squinting is part of my process,” Tony said without looking up from his work.

“Tony,” Pepper said in a warning tone.

“Yeah, Tony.” Clint gave him a shit-eating grin. “Listen to mom and put on your glasses.”

Dum-E came wheeling up to the table again as Natasha snorted with laughter. Delicately, the robot extended its arm out, dangling a pair of wire-rim glasses in front of Tony’s face. For a moment, Tony and Dum-E seemed to be in some kind of stand-off with neither moving, until finally Tony snapped and grabbed the glasses, unfolding them and shoving them onto his face with far more force than necessary.

“Do you see this?” Tony looked at Bucky imploringly. “Attacked in my own home. I get no respect.”

“Dum-E respects you,” Pepper said, leaning down and kissing Tony sweetly on the cheek. “He just respects me more.”

Tony sputtered in faux-indignation as Pepper straightened back up. “It was lovely to see you again James,” she said.

“I’ll call you Pepper if you call me Bucky.”

She smiled softly at him. “Bucky, then. I’m sorry to leave so soon, but I’ve got a dinner meeting to get to. But don’t let this lot fool you.” She looked fondly at Natasha, Tony, and Clint. “Under all the leather and latex, they’re all giant softies.”

“Idiots is more accurate,” Tony said, not quite under his breath. “Except for me,” he clarified in a normal tone of voice as everyone looked at him. 

Everyone said their goodbyes to Pepper as she left, leaving a cloud of sweet-scented perfume behind her. She’d barely been gone for five minutes when a soft sound announced the arrival of the elevator once again.

“What’d you forget-” Tony managed to get out before Steve burst through the doors.

“Bucky?” Steve looked around wildly before he set eyes on him. “Bucky, I am _so_ sorry, I had no idea-”

“Steve, _Steve_ ,” Bucky said firmly, holding his hands up to try and stop Steve before he got started. “It’s okay, I promise. Why don’t we…” He pointed towards the kitchen and cocked his head in question. Steve nodded, so Bucky stood and made his way quickly over to that side of the room.

They ended up against the far wall, relatively hidden behind the large fridge. It was as private as they were going to get without actually leaving the room.

“I’m sorry,” Steve started up again the moment they were alone. “I-”

“Steve, stop,” Bucky interrupted. Steve’s hair was mussed from the wind and his cheeks were red. When Bucky put his fingers to them lightly, Steve’s skin was cold. He must have ran nearly the entire way. Bucky didn’t know whether to feel flattered that Steve was worried about him or annoyed that Steve felt the need to worry about him in the first place.

“It’s fine,” Bucky continued. He dropped his fingers down to the curve of Steve’s jaw and gently traced the stubble there. “I wasn’t expecting it, and it was weird at first, but it’s fine now.”

Steve’s worried expression softened under Bucky’s hand, but he still glanced over his shoulder at his three teammates. They weren’t even bothering to hide the fact that they were all doing their best to eavesdrop. Which was fine. Even though he’d known them for a sum total of a few hours, Bucky found he didn’t expect anything less.

“Look, you can unload whatever speech you want to give them about personal privacy and bodily autonomy and all that good stuff later, okay? Have at it. But for now, just relax and let’s go eat with your friends.”

Steve sighed heavily, seeming to deflate as the air left him. Whatever righteous sense of indignation that had fueled him this far drained out of him. Steve brought his hand up, his large palm covering the hand that Bucky still had on Steve’s jaw.

“You’re sure?” he asked, his light blue eyes searching Bucky’s.

“I’m sure,” Bucky replied before laughing. “But do know that this means I have full rights to set Becca loose on you whenever I want.”

“Deal,” Steve said before leaning forward to kiss him. Steve’s lips held the same hint of winter that his skin did, but rapidly warmed under Bucky’s.

“Hey, Beauty and the Beast! Come eat before the food gets cold.” Clint cackled with laughter at his own joke.

“The food was cold half an hour ago,” Bucky called back before returning his attention to Steve. He kissed him again, leaning in close. Steve smelled faintly of the fancy aftershave he was so fond of. It was rapidly becoming one of Bucky’s favorite scents. “I’m clearly the beauty though, right?” Bucky asked Steve when they broke apart.

“Obviously,” Steve agreed.

Before they moved apart completely, Bucky reached out and tugged at the front of Steve’s dress shirt, pulling him back in for just one more kiss. A chorus of catcalls erupted from the direction of the table, and Bucky firmly held out a middle finger in their direction.

“You know,” Bucky said, sliding back into his chair when they finally rejoined the others. Steve took a seat beside him and stole Bucky’s plate, loading it up with the leftover food. “I’ve always been more a Cinderella gal myself.”

“Rags to riches?” Natasha propped her chin up on one fist as she asked him, “Or wicked stepmother?”

“Or glass slippers,” Clint added. “We don’t judge. Except for Tony.”

Taking a page out of Bucky’s book, Tony made the robotic hand flip Clint off.

“More like lower middle class to upper middle class,” Bucky said in answer to Natasha’s question.

“What was that like?” Clint asked.

Bucky laughed and took a drink of his water before he realized that no one else had laughed with him. “Seriously?” he said, lowering the glass and looking around. “Growing up was pretty boring for me.”

“Well, no one here had a normal childhood,” Natasha said. She pointed at herself before continuing, “Child spy, carnival freak, too rich to ever understand how real life works,” she pointed at Clint and Tony in quick succession. “And grew up poor and gay in the 1930s,” she finished with Steve. “Let us live vicariously through you.”

“Huh,” Bucky said contemplatively. “So the sex worker dating Captain America is the most normal person here. I can’t say I’ve ever been the least interesting person at a party before. I kinda like it.”

They laughed with him this time, and Bucky felt something in his gut relax, some kind of tensed knot he hadn’t known was there. It was one thing to know that they’d helped him when he’d needed it. They’d done that for Steve. But to say it out loud, to lay out his secrets in broad daylight and still be greeted with smiles? That eased something in him more than he’d like to admit.

So amazingly, Bucky spent the next half hour telling perhaps the most famous people in the county, if not the world, all about his high school prom. If someone had told him as a teenager that he would end up telling the Avengers all about the night he drank too much of the spiked punch and got sick in his prom date’s car, he would have told them to fuck off. But here he was, happy, full of good food and contentment.

As the clock ticked away the minutes, the conversation shifted to another topic, and then another. At some point, Bucky stopped paying attention to the words, content to sit and let people’s voices flow around him, rising and falling as they talked and laughed. It felt like family. With a little pang in his chest, he thought of his mother. When was the last time he’d even spoken to her, much less visited? He made a mental note to fix that as soon as he had the time.

Beside him, Steve smiled as he listened to his teammates’ banter, the mountain of food on his plate slowly dwindling down as he ate steadily through enough sustenance to feed a small horse. At some point, Steve had dropped his other hand beneath the tabletop to search out Bucky’s, interlacing their fingers. It was nice. Sweet. Like having a high school sweetheart all over again. The elation that flowed through Bucky from nothing more than the feeling of Steve’s skin on his was electric.

Bucky propped his chin on one fist, half watching Steve and half floating lazily on the simple feeling of being loved. Steve’s dark blue dress shirt highlighted the cornflower blue of his eyes. He’d ditched his tie before he’d even come in the doors, and his shirt was unbuttoned and hanging open over a tight, white undershirt. He looked good like that, all undone and relaxed. His face lit up with a smile as something Clint said made him burst into laughter, color rising high on his cheeks. The nice clothes, the glow to Steve’s skin; it made Bucky think of the night he’d been at the party with Pierce. How he’d snuck away with Steve and what they’d done.

He couldn’t say later why he did it. Impulse, maybe. Bucky shook his hand loose from Steve’s and laid it on Steve’s knee under the table. He watched carefully for a reaction from Steve, but beyond the smile already on his face, there was nothing. Slowly, carefully, Bucky rubbed Steve’s leg, moving upwards from his knee to his thigh. The material of Steve’s dress pants was silky and smooth beneath his palm as he went higher and higher still. Then, cautiously, he walked his fingers across Steve’s lap and cupped his palm over Steve’s cock.

And _that_ at least got his attention. Sharply, Steve turned his head, stopping at the last second so as not to draw attention. His eyes darted over to Bucky’s as Bucky cocked his head, asking silent permission. Steve’s eyes darted quickly around to the others, and then he nodded, the movement so slight it was almost undetectable. Bucky’s hand tightened, rubbing at the front of Steve’s pants. Even through the fabric, he could feel Steve’s cock just beginning to harden. Bucky’s ran his nails lightly over the growing bulge. Steve’s eyes widened and a small, surprised sound escaped his lips.

Suddenly, all eyes were on Steve, who was busy turning a very interesting shade of crimson. Under the table, Bucky plucked at Steve’s belt and fly, undoing both with adept fingers.

“Everything okay, Steve?” Clint asked.

“Fine!”

Steve’s voice was strangled, the tone rising sharply at the end of the word as Bucky finally got Steve’s pants open and worked his hand inside. He wasted no time at all in pushing aside Steve’s underwear and wrapping his fingers around Steve’s cock, which had reached full hardness at record speed.

He could feel wetness beading at the tip as Bucky rolled his thumb over the head. He stroked Steve slowly, savoring the warm, velvety feel of Steve’s skin beneath his fingers and the trembling tension in his thighs.

“You sure, man?”

“Mhmm.”

Steve made a noncommittal sound as he hastily stuffed a forkful of food into his mouth. He chewed like he’d forgotten how his mouth worked, and Bucky saw Clint and Natasha exchange a confused look across the table. Steve’s eyes darted over to Bucky again, and in return Bucky increased his speed, tightened his grip, aiming for speed now rather than fun.

Clint shrugged his shoulders after a minute of watching Steve’s unflattering chewing. He turned towards Tony and the two of them picked up the conversation they’d been having before the interruption. Bucky tuned them out in favor of watching Steve’s reactions. He loved watching Steve, had become a bit of an expert at it, really. But this was something else, and Bucky was delighted with the results.

He kept the hand on Steve’s cock moving in ways that he knew Steve liked, his grip tight in all the places that made Steve wild. He wasn’t aiming to learn or explore this time; he wanted to get Steve off, and he wasn’t going to take his time about it. On the table, one of Steve’s hands clenched and unclenched, over and over again. A muscle in his jaw tightened, and his face flushed clear up to the roots of his hair. He was wound up, a spring coiled tight, ready to explode at any moment.

And then Bucky’s heart stopped in his chest as he looked across the table. Natasha stared solidly back at him, her green eyes unreadable. His breath caught in his lungs before he carefully controlled himself, forced his breathing to be even and steady. Meeting her eyes with a confident look of his own, he stared back at her. It felt like a standoff, as if each one was saying to the other _just say something, I dare you_. It lasted a second (a lifetime), then another, and another, before she finally looked away, lips pursed into a thin line. Adrenaline rushed through him, heady and hot. Did she know exactly what he was doing? Could she tell?

Bucky had no idea what Natasha did or didn’t know, but it didn’t matter at that point anyway. He could feel how close Steve was. His thighs were shaking, muscles standing out like cords of metal. His cock was hot and heavy in Bucky’s hand and his breath came in short bursts.

Suddenly, his cock twitched as Steve’s eyes slammed shut. The hand still holding his fork closed so forcefully that the metal bent in half, and Bucky was scared the table might suffer the same fate if Steve didn’t let go soon. Under the table, Steve’s cock jumped again, and then something warm and wet flooded Bucky’s hand. He gave Steve a few more strokes, come continuing to spill out into his hand. Finally, he felt Steve let go. It was like a balloon deflating as his muscles unclenched and he sank down into his seat.

“Sorry, sorry,” Steve muttered quietly out the side of his mouth as Bucky tucked Steve’s spent cock back into his pants, being careful not to smear anything on them in the process. Surreptitiously, Steve grabbed a clean napkin and passed it to Bucky under the table. Bucky wiped his hand clean before doing up Steve’s fly and belt once again.

Steve had come down from his orgasm by the time Bucky was finished, and was now filled with a different kind of energy. He kept looking at Bucky with a smile just this side of sly. Bucky wondered if Steve knew how obvious he was, but Bucky was still a little too pleased with himself for bringing Steve off to be very concerned about it.

“Bucky,” Steve said, interrupting the debate currently going on between Clint and Tony about the proper use of explosives in arrowheads. Again, all eyes were on them as Steve said, “Come with me to the balcony. It’s the best view of Manhattan you can get. You’ll love it.”

“I’ve seen better,” Clint said with a shit-eating grin in Tony’s direction.

“Oh yeah, Barton?” Tony replied. “Don’t think I won’t nail your windows shut if you keep climbing shit you’re not supposed to.”

They argued as Steve stood and pulled Bucky to his feet. He tugged on Bucky’s arm, dragging him quickly across the room to the sliding glass doors that led to the balcony. A blast of winter wind, amplified by the altitude, greeted them as the doors slid open. The balcony itself was simple. It stretched out to either side, lined with a waist high railing and covered with scattered chairs and low tables. Bucky wished for his jacket, but with Steve close behind him, radiating heat once again, he almost didn’t need it.

Steve pushed Bucky out in front of him and then followed him quickly out onto the balcony. The second the door closed behind him Steve spun Bucky around to face him. Something in Bucky’s stomach fluttered giddily at the ease with which Steve moved him around.

“You know you’re in trouble, right?” Steve told him, his face serious, lips pressed into a thin line.

Bucky raised an eyebrow as another burst of wind ruffled Steve’s hair. “Are you saying you’re gonna punish me?”

“I’m just gonna show you the city,” Steve said, suddenly disarmingly casual. He started towards Bucky, not slowing down once he reached him. Instead, he steadily backed Bucky towards the edge of the balcony until the small of Bucky’s back hit the railing. Despite the relative similarity in their heights, in that moment, Steve towered over him. Bucky shivered, but whether it was from the wind or want he couldn’t tell.

“Cold?” Steve asked, leaning in.

“Freezing,” Bucky replied, as Steve’s warm breath ghosted over his lips.

Steve kissed him. His lips were hot against Bucky’s, and his body kept Bucky warm as he pressed Bucky against the rail. Steve stepped forward again until they were nearly flush together and wrapped his arms around Bucky, enveloping him and protecting him from the gusts of wind that blew past. Bucky melted into the kiss. He tugged at Steve’s bottom lip with his teeth, pulling it into his mouth and sucking on it as Steve inhaled sharply through his nose. He felt Steve’s hand run over his back and slide up his sides to his shoulders.

And then, without warning, Steve gripped Bucky’s shoulders tight and easily flipped him around. One strong arm wrapped around Bucky’s chest from behind, holding him solidly as Steve pushed him back up against the railing. The cold metal bit into his stomach, and Bucky gasped at the sudden sensation. He was facing outward now, and the view was incredible, gorgeous in ways he couldn’t describe. The city was blanketed with velvet soft darkness. The moon was a thin waning crescent, its light scant, and thousands of stars lit the sky above them in its absence. Around them, the city stretched for miles in every direction, all of it so far below their feet that it might as well have not existed at all.

Bucky gasped again as Steve mouthed at the back of his neck, his lips tracing fire over Bucky’s skin and his teeth nipping sharp little points of pain. Steve pushed forward, bending Bucky further over the rail as the arm around his chest gripped even tighter. From the back, they must look like two lovers in embrace, marveling down at the sparkling city lights. Or at least Bucky hoped so, but it was too late to do anything differently now. Not that he’d even want to.

Steve wasn’t particularly gentle as he wrapped his other arm around Bucky’s waist, feeling for the button on his jeans. He undid it quickly and wasted no time in shoving Bucky’s pants and underwear down his thighs. The cold intensified, rippling over every inch of Bucky’s exposed skin. He felt open and vulnerable and so, so turned on.

Steve seemed to know exactly where to touch, relieving the chill rattling through Bucky’s body with his tongue and lips and hands. Bucky let out a disappointed noise as one of the hands disappeared. Behind him, he heard the sound of crinkling plastic. Bucky tried to twist around and see what Steve was up to, but a large hand on the back of his neck held him in place. It didn’t matter. Bucky would know that sound in his sleep.

“You just carry those around with you?” he asked.

“I was never a boy scout,” Steve’s voice was breathy, “but I do like to be prepared.”

Bucky could feel Steve’s cock pressed up against his ass, hard and ready. There was the shuffling sound of fabric being moved and a soft muttered curse from Steve as he worked at his own pants. Steve let out a small moan as he rolled on the condom, still pressed so close to Bucky that he could feel every one of Steve’s movements. Bucky could see it in his head without having to turn around; Steve flushed and debauched, his hair in disarray as he stroked himself to full hardness.

Steve’s hand was back, fingers pressed insistently to Bucky’s lips. Bucky opened his mouth and sucked eagerly on Steve’s fingers. The taste of latex and rubber wasn’t his favorite, but it was oddly comforting in a familiar way. His tongue curled around the fingers in his mouth, getting them good and wet before Steve pulled his hand away.

Subtly, Bucky spread his legs slightly, planting his feet firmly on the concrete beneath him. Steve’s grip on him shifted, accounting for the change in his center of gravity without a second thought, like it was the most natural thing in the world to move with him instead of working against him. Steve’s fingers gently circled Bucky’s hole, and Steve wasted no time pushing the first one in.

Bucky moaned and slumped down, letting Steve support his weight, as Steve worked him open. His breath puffed out in clouds in the chilly air as Bucky forced himself to keep his eyes open. Everything around him shone with light, the stars overhead and the city around them. The world was empty this high up, just him and Steve and the wind whistling around their ears. Nobody and nothing else mattered; not the people down below or the people inside. He and Steve were the only two people who existed, the only two who had ever existed, and the only two who would ever be.

“Can you- do you have an appointment tonight?” Steve breathed in Bucky’s ear.

“Two,” Bucky replied. “But they’re... none of my clients are as picky as… it’s fine. It’s fine, please.”

Inside him, Steve’s fingers stilled and Bucky wanted to scream in frustration. He rolled his hips, digging his stomach further into the railing, driving himself back onto Steve’s fingers. The additional stretch burned in the most delicious way, and Bucky moaned as Steve started up again.

“Two appointments?” Steve’s voice was strained from holding back, his cock hard against Bucky’s ass. “Maybe you should start charging more.”

“Maybe I should start charging _you_ if you don’t get a move on.”

Bucky had more to say, the words on the tip of his tongue, but just then Steve curled his fingers just right and Bucky cried out instead.

“Steve,” Bucky said. He started babbling as Steve pumped his fingers in and out him, pressing again and again in that place that made stars burst behind Bucky’s eyes. “Steve, please, please, Steve, don’t make me wait, please, just-“

“Shhh,” Steve soothed him.

Bucky tried to be quiet, but Steve’s fingers wrenched another loud sound from him. The arm around his chest shifted. Steve’s hand smoothed over Bucky’s chest and up the line of his neck to slip easily over Bucky’s mouth, muffling the sound. Bucky moaned loudly against the skin of Steve’s palm as Steve finally pressed into him.

It took hardly any time at all. Bucky was thoroughly worked up, strung out on Steve’s scent around him, Steve’s hands on him, Steve’s cock inside him. Steve thrusted steadily into Bucky, setting a grueling pace. Bucky’s scattered brain skipped over words and sensations and sounds like a rock over still water. There was nowhere to land, nowhere to come down; his only choice was to keep going up, to keep going towards that height. He was almost there, and then Steve’s hand wrapped around Bucky’s cock and stroked once, twice-

The hand over Bucky’s mouth muffled his cry as he came, spilling over Steve’s fingers. His legs trembled, all of him trembled, and Steve pressed into him, using his bulk to pin Bucky still against the railing as he fucked into him. Steve mouth was on Bucky’s neck, his tongue wet on Bucky’s skin as Steve tensed. He bit down on the back of Bucky’s neck hard as he came, his cock pulsing inside Bucky. His groan was muted against Bucky’s skin as he let go of Bucky’s neck, soothing the skin with his tongue before pulling away.

They stayed like that, Steve still hard inside him, both of them panting as they came down. Eventually, Steve’s cock softened and slipped out of him, and Steve stepped back. Bucky quickly pulled his pants back up and did them up, suppressing a grin.

Steve sighed and Bucky turned towards him. Steve’s nose and cheeks were pink. He smiled softly at Bucky, and Bucky felt warm in ways that had nothing to do with the temperature.

Steve’s voice was regretful as he said, “We should probably go back inside before they start to think it’s weird that we’ve been out here so long.”

“It’s already weird,” Bucky laughed.

Steve shrugged, amusement on his face that quickly to exasperation. “Damn,” Steve muttered as he held his hand out in front of him. His fingers were still coated in Bucky’s come. “I don’t have anything to-”

Bucky rolled his eyes and grabbed Steve by the wrist. Steve stared at him wide-eyed as Bucky brought Steve’s hand to his mouth and one by one licked Steve’s fingers clean. Bucky stared back as he curled his tongue over Steve’s thumb. Steve was enraptured, his eyes following every effort Bucky made, and Bucky reveled in the sudden power. They had fallen into a pattern lately, where Bucky was more vulnerable for Steve than he’d ever been for any one else, and with that vulnerability came a different dynamic to sex than he was used to. He missed the power that filled him during moments like these, with Steve hung on his every move.

It was something to think about, anyway.

When Bucky was done, he dropped Steve’s hand and grabbed at the back of Steve’s neck, pulling him in for a hard kiss. He could taste himself and Steve, and he pushed at Steve’s lips with his tongue insistently. Steve opened and let him in, and Bucky deepened the kiss. The little sounds escaping Steve were nearly enough to have Bucky’s cock twitching in interest again.

Luckily (or unluckily) Steve pulled back after a moment and tipped his head towards the door. Bucky sighed and made an _‘I guess so’_ sort of gesture back at him before following Steve through the door and into the light and warmth of the Tower. The transition between the balcony and inside was a bit like leaving a dream and waking up. Bucky felt just the tiniest bit mournful at the thought of leaving their private world, but reality beckoned. He still had two appointments to get to, and if the clock on the wall was correct, he had very little time to prepare at all.

Tony was where they’d left him, deep in work, mumbling to himself as he pored over metal parts. Clint was stretched across one of the couches playing on his phone, while Natasha was curled up in an armchair. When they walked in, she looked up from her book, glancing them over. After a moment, she shook her head and visibly rolled her eyes. Bucky couldn’t help the blush that burned his ears.

“Thank you for dinner,” Bucky said, and Clint and Tony looked up at him as well. “And for the kidnapping, I guess. Just don’t do it again.”

He was pretty sure he heard a murmured _‘no promises’_ from somewhere in Tony’s direction.

Natasha had left her book behind on the arm of the chair. Bucky hesitated as she approached him. She didn’t seem like a hugger, and besides, he wasn’t overly fond of violating people’s personal space without some kind of invitation. Luckily, she cleared it up for him when she offered him an outstretched hand. He gladly took it, and she gave him a gentle handshake that was more just a squeeze of the hand than anything. It felt like the right amount of contact.

“I’m glad we got to spend some time together,” she told him. Her eyes were bright and she smiled as she spoke. “Get my number from Steve and have your sister call me. I have some people who’d love to see her work.”

He said a similar goodbye to Tony and Clint before he turned to Steve, who said, “I’ll walk you out.”

Bucky was contemplative as the two of them took the elevator down to street level. He really didn’t feel like going to his appointments tonight. The only thing he wanted to do was go back to his apartment and see what else he and Steve could get up to. Steve was standing, arms folded across his chest, head bowed in thought as the light from above lit up his hair like a golden halo. Bucky wasn’t an artist, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that a sight like that deserved to be hung in an art gallery, preserved and admired and cherished.

Bucky sighed and shook his head. He had obligations. Responsibilities. All that boring adult stuff he would gladly leave in the dust if he didn’t need money to, ya know, _live_. His hair tickled his forehead as he moved.

“Damn,” Bucky said, more to himself than anything, “I meant to get a haircut today before your friends hijacked my plans.”

Steve smiled and reached out to tug lightly at a lock of Bucky’s hair. It was starting to curl towards his ears.

“I like it,” Steve said. You should keep it.”

Bucky made a face at the suggestion, and in response, Steve stuck out an over-exaggerated, pouty lower lip.

“Fine,” Bucky sighed after a moment. “But the second someone says the words man-bun in my direction, I’m out.”

Steve grinned and tugged the lock of hair one more time. “Deal.”

The elevator let them out on the ground floor, and from there it was a short walk to one of the private exits. That unpleasantly familiar wind nipped at Bucky’s exposed skin as soon as they walked outside. Before he’d said anything, Steve’s arms were around him, wrapping him in a hug.

“Come over after?” Bucky said into the scratchy fabric of Steve’s jacket. “We can sleep in tomorrow. Or not sleep. I’ll even let you have the good pillow.”

Steve pulled back to raise an amused eyebrow at him. “Well, I was going to say no, but now that I know the good pillow is up for grabs…”

Bucky smacked him lightly on the arm as he pulled away. He missed Steve’s warmth already. “You’re not gettin’ nothing with that attitude.”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve said, embellishing the words with as much playful sarcasm as he could. “Can I make it up to you?”

Bucky leaned forward and pulled Steve in for a quick kiss, nothing more than a touch of the lips. “I’m sure you can,” he said. “You always do.”

Steve stayed with him until the car Bucky had called arrived, keeping an arm snugly around Bucky’s shoulders. “I’ll see you tonight,” Steve said, tugging Bucky’s scarf tighter around his neck and bundling him into the car like an overanxious parent. He kissed him again before closing the door, and as Bucky watched him in the car’s rear view mirror, he stood with his arms crossed, watching until the car disappeared from sight. 

.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! If there's anything you'd like to see the boys get up to for future short stories before I start the sequel, let me know!


End file.
